Attention
by faorism
Summary: HPDM. PWP: Gripping onto the Alicanto-threaded sheets, Harry writhed in delighted satisfaction.


_Disclaimer_: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters or events that align with those of the series, and do not claim to do so. I also do not claim to own any copyrighted items, any items not copyrighted but still owned by another party, any real locations I may mention, or crossed-over characters I may incorporate. I do own this story, the plot, and any original characters or locations I create.

-o0o-

Gripping onto the Alicanto-threaded sheets, Harry writhed in delighted satisfaction. Perhaps they should not be doing this on such an expensive fabric, but its owner had not complained so Harry saw little reason to suggest they move elsewhere. The brunet would do his best to avoid destroying the delicate bed cover, but it was not his top priority: after all, it would not be the first time they ruined something either irreplaceable or worth more Galleons than what most wizards would see after a lifetime of hard work. There was the Urn of Ta'lab in one of the northern hallways in the East Wing that had smashed when Harry was pushed into its case; countless ripped briefs and shirts without buttons; and an antique Kusanagi prototype now had a permanent blemish that refused to be Scourgfied away...

Perhaps Harry should not be thinking about such frivolous things now. After all, various Ministry functions, business meetings, and other "necessary" appointments filled both his and Malfoy's respective calendars: the possibility of Harry visiting again within three fortnights was dim.

But however much he tried, Harry could not bring himself to paying full attention to the platinum blond's ministrations. He never could. Whenever Malfoy welcomed the brunet into the Manor (and after having some tea, of course), they unceremoniously fell into the young heir's bed, romped, washed up and (if Harry's schedule allowed it) chatted about work or Quidditch for about a quarter hour before calling it a night. (Harry slept over because something about fuck-and-running seemed cheap. Malfoy agreed.) The sex was lovely, but it had quickly become so routine that Harry was in need of something... something more. He was unsure as to what he wanted exactly, but he knew it was something important.

"Potter," Malfoy drawled from between Harry's spread legs, causing the latter man to jump slightly. "I said to hand me the lubricant. Would you rather I charm you tonight?"

"You know I hate that," Harry said as he reached for the vial of lube Malfoy kept at his bedside, immediately tossing it to the blond once he got his hand around it.

The slightly older man sent Harry a sharp glance. "I hate being ignored."

Blushing at the thinly-veiled reprimand, Harry mumbled an almost inaudible "sorry" before lying back down. Malfoy, although probably unsatisfied by the apology, bit down on the brunet's inner thigh softly, his tongue lining the edge of his teeth against the flesh. Focusing on the blond and not, well, anything else, Harry sighed at the delightful sensation, knowing that Malfoy's skilled fingers would soon be—

"Ah!" yelped Harry as Malfoy's bite moved from his thigh to the base of the brunet's scrotum. The blond roughly sucked on the skin, pulling some of it further into his mouth. The hot sac lifted, the weight of it straining on the part Malfoy held captive between his lips. Harry lifted his hips in a vague attempt to minimize the strain, but to no avail. Instead, the blond slowly juggled the balls on his tongue, taking more into his mouth with every lap. When Malfoy could not fit any more comfortably, his fingers cradled the excess; the second knuckle of Malfoy's pinkie probed nonchalantly against Harry's perineum. Harry bucked into the warmth just as Malfoy swallowed, forcing the blond to take just that more of the other man. Feeling thrills of pleasure jolt from his crotch, Harry moaned and slipped his hand into the other's silky hair. Pleased, Malfoy swallowed again, a hint of a gag reflex vibrating against Harry's scrotum.

Harry barely registered the two fingers that had eased into his anus until they curved against the walls and deliberately brushed against the brunet's prostrate. At this, Harry cursed Merlin, Gringott and all the ancient founders of the wizarding world as he reached down to grip his engorged erection. The brunet held onto the base to delay his orgasm, and the touch was enough to at least appease his needy cock for the time being. Malfoy, seeing the other's reaction, roughly added in a third and fourth finger, making Harry very thankful that their previous foreplay had loosened his entrance enough to allow such rapid progression.

"F—fist or fuck—fu—fuck me. Pick one," Harry managed to get out after a couple minutes of having Malfoy swallow, fondle, and stretch him simultaneously. He barely had the strength or state of mind to restrict his oncoming climax: his grip was loose, his fingertips lazily stroking the swollen length.

The disappearance of Malfoy's moist mouth around him brought forth a cry of absolute annoyance from Harry, who had gotten used to the heat. The blond heaved for breath, his exhales seductively brushing against Harry's already stimulated cock. Nothing was enough to satisfy Harry's need, but at least the fingers still twisted within him... although Harry knew that that would not last for too much longer.

"Are you paying attention to me now, Potter?" Malfoy hissed as he shoved into Harry knuckle-deep.

"Yes, Malfoy, _yes_."

Malfoy sat back and, taking care not to remove his fingers, ushered Harry onto his lap. Although content that he finally had his lips on Malfoy's once again, Harry felt a bit awkward at his new position, but knew better than to complain: the blond was a sadistic bitch of a man when he wanted to be, and said bitch would be willing to stop right now if he so fancied. There was that one time that just as Harry was about to climax after a particularly rough frotting session, Malfoy got up and _left_ because Harry did not apologize for showing up late that night. It wasn't even his fault! The Head of the Auror Department wanted to commend the brunet on his work so far, and Harry couldn't just leave! It was his _boss,_ for crying out loud. What was Harry supposed to say? "Sorry, sir, but I don't have time for this now: you see, a wonderful piece of ass is waiting for me and he hates to wait. I'm sure you understand..." No, that would not do (even if he could get away with saying such inappropriate things: he was still Harry Potter, after all, and no matter how much it displeased him, being savior of the wizarding world came with some perks). For all that is good and magical, Malfoy could be such a—

"Tell me want you want," the blond whispered into their kiss.

"You."

To which Malfoy replied, "You're a bright man, Harry Potter," before quickly replacing his fingers with his cock. Harry tightened his hold of his own erection, lifting his hips sharply before slamming down onto the stiffness inside him. Groaning, the brunet closed his eyes and pressed his lips tighter against the other man's. It was just enough to stifle Harry's more than grateful scream.

Rising once again, Harry noticed that the elongated preparation and liberal use of lube loosened Harry considerably, so he had to actively clench onto the blond to increase friction. (Which he did, of course. There was no way Harry would sacrifice pleasure because of laziness...)

Malfoy smirked as best he could but finally settled on a content quirk of his lips, probably realizing that he was much less smug when his arousal was as great as it was at the moment. He forced Harry to rock harder and faster—nimble and rough—reckless and with enough aim to have the head of Malfoy's cock strike Harry's prostrate with every third rut. Somehow, the blond's hand was helping delay Harry's much-needed orgasm further, squeezing the pre-cum slick length with a queer mix of gentleness and resolve that only served to turn the brunet on more.

And then just to mess with Harry even more, the bastard went back to cradling the brunet's scrotum again (this time with the curve of his palm).

"Mal..." a very lightheaded Harry started, breaking the steady pattern of pants and groans.

"Hush. Hush. Just—just," Malfoy breathed. He, with flushed cheeks and sweat beading down his hairline, shivered before growling some incomprehensible declaration. Knowing what this meant, Harry kissed the other's neck and clenched down around Malfoy once more before feeling a scorching liquid fill him. The brunet's erection was finally released—and much to Harry's embarrassed chagrin, he was so overstimulated that the mere change in pressure was enough to send him over the edge.

-o0o-


End file.
